The Persian Boy

The Persian Boy

A Novel of Alexander the Great

Mary Renault

Contents

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Author’s Note

Preview: Funeral Games

A Biography of Mary Renault

If anyone has the right to be measured by the standards of his own time, it is Alexander.

Hermann Bengston,

The Greeks and the Persians

1

LEST ANYONE SHOULD SUPPOSE I am a son of nobody, sold off by some peasant father in a drought year, I may say our line is an old one, though it ends with me. My father was Artembares son of Araxis, of the Pasargadai, Kyros’ old royal tribe. Three of our family fought for him, when he set the Persians over the Medes. We held our land eight generations, in the hills west above Susa. I was ten years old, and learning a warrior’s skills, when I was taken away.

Our hill-fort was as old as our family, weathered-in with the rocks, its watchtower built up against a crag. From there my father used to show me the river winding through the green plain to Susa, city of lilies. He pointed out the Palace, shining on its broad terrace, and promised I should be presented, when I was sixteen.

That was in King Ochos’ day. We survived his reign, though he was a great killer. It was through keeping faith with his young son Arses, against Bagoas the Vizier, that my father died.

At my age, I might have overheard less of the business, if the Vizier had not borne my name. It is common enough in Persia; but being the only son and much beloved, I found it so strange to hear it pronounced with loathing, that each time my ears pricked up.

Court and country lords whom, as a rule, we hardly saw twice a year, were riding up the mountain track every few days. Our fort was well out of the way, a good place to meet. I enjoyed seeing these fine men on their tall horses, and felt an expectation of events, but not of danger, since none of them owned to fear. More than once they sacrificed at the fire-altar; the Magus would come, a strong old man who could scramble the rocks like a goatherd, killing snakes and scorpions. I loved the bright flames, and their light on the polished sword-hilts, gold buttons and jeweled hats. So it would all go on, I thought, till I could join them as a man.

After the prayer they would take the sacred drink together, and talk about honor.

In honor I had been instructed. Since I was five and had been brought out from among the women, I had been reared to ride and shoot and abhor the Lie. Fire was the soul of the Wise God. The dark Lie was faithlessness.

King Ochos was lately dead. If his sickness had killed him, few would have cried; but it was said that had been nothing much, it was his medicine he had died of. Bagoas had been highest in the kingdom, next the King, for many years; but young Arses had lately come of age and married. Ochos, with a grown heir and grandsons, had begun to trim Bagoas down. He died soon after this was seen.

So now, said one of my father’s guests, the throne comes down by treachery, even though to the lawful heir. Myself, I acquit Arses; I never heard anything against the boy’s honor. But his youth will double Bagoas’ power; from now on, he might as well be King. No eunuch before has climbed so high.

Not often, my father said. But sometimes this lust for power will rule them. It is because they will see no sons. Finding me near him, he took me in his arm. Someone uttered a blessing.

The guest of highest rank, whose land was near Persepolis but who had followed the court to Susa, said, We are all agreed that Bagoas shall never rule. But let us see how Arses deals with him. Young though he is, I think the Vizier has reckoned without his host.

I don’t know what Arses would have done, if his brothers had not been poisoned. It was then he set out to count his friends.

The three princes had been much of an age. All three had been very close. Kings mostly change to their kin; Arses did not. The Vizier distrusted their private councils. Both the younger, without much time wasted between, got cramps in their bellies and died.

Soon after, a messenger came to our house; his letter bore the royal seal. I was the first person my father met, when the man had gone.

My son, he said, I shall soon have to go away; the King has called for me. A time may come—remember it—when one must stand for the Light against the Lie. He set his hand on my shoulder. It’s hard for you to be sharing your name just now with an evil man; you will not for long, God willing. And that monster can’t hand it on. It is you who will carry it down in honor; you, and the sons of your sons. He lifted me up and kissed me.

He had the fort strengthened. It had a sheer cliff one side, and a gatehouse over the mountain track; but he had the walls raised a course or two, with better slits for the archers.

On the day before he was due to leave, a party of warriors rode up. Their letter carried the royal seal. We were not to know it came from a dead man’s hand. Arses had gone his brothers’ way; his infant sons were smothered; the male line of Ochos was wiped out. My father looked at the seal, and ordered the gates to be opened. The men rode in.

Having watched all this, I went back to some boy’s business in the orchard below the tower. There was some shouting; I came to see. Five or six men dragged through the door a man with a dreadful face. Its center was red and empty; blood streamed from it into his mouth and beard. He had been stripped of his coat; both shoulders dripped blood, for his ears had gone. I knew him by his boots; they were my father’s.

Even now, sometimes I think how I let him go to his death without a word, struck dumb with horror. I suppose he understood; when he spoke it was to the purpose. As they led him on, he cried at me in a loud harsh voice, horribly changed by the wound where his nose had been, Orxines betrayed us! Orxines, remember the name! Orxines!

With the mouth open and shouting, the face looked more frightful than before. I did not know I heard the words it uttered. I stood like a post, while they pushed him to his knees, and pulled his head forward by the hair. It took them five or six sword-strokes, to cleave through his neck.

While they were about this, they forgot to watch my mother. She must have run straight up the tower; the moment he was dead she leaped from it, so they lost their sport with her. She screamed as she fell; but that, I think, was because she saw too late I was there below her. She struck the ground about a spear-length away, and her skull burst open.

I hope my father’s spirit saw her quick death. They could just as well have taken his ears and nose when his head was off. The Vizier, when they brought it him, would never have known the difference.

My sisters were twelve years old and thirteen. There was another of about nine, by a second wife of my father’s who had died of fever. I heard all three of them shrieking. I don’t know if they were left for dead when the men had done, or taken away alive.

At last, the captain of the troop set me on his horse and rode with me down the hill. Slung to his saddlecloth was the bloody bag with my father’s head. I wondered, with what power of thought was left me, why he had had mercy on me alone. I learned the answer that same night.

He did not keep me long, being in need of money. In the dealer’s courtyard at Susa, city of lilies, I stood stripped naked, while they drank date wine out of little cups, and haggled over my price. Greek boys are reared without shame and used to nakedness; we have more modesty. In my ignorance, I thought one could fall no lower.

Only a month before, my mother had scolded me for looking in her mirror, saying I was too young to be vain. I had no more than glimpsed my face in it. My new owner had more to tell. A real thoroughbred, the antique Persian strain, the grace of a roebuck. See those delicate bones, the profile—turn round, boy—the hair shining like bronze, straight and fine as silk from Chin—come here, boy, let him feel it. Brows drawn with the fine brush. Those great eyes, smudged in with bister—aha, pools to drown love in! Those slender hands you won’t sell cheap to sweep floors. Don’t tell me you’ve been offered such goods in five years, or ten.

At his every pause, the dealer told him he did not buy at a loss. At last he reached his final offer; the captain said it was robbing an honest man; but the dealer said there was the risk to reckon for. We lose one in five when we geld them.

Geld them, I thought, while the hand of fear closed the gate of understanding. But I had seen it done to an ox at home. I neither spoke nor moved. I begged for nothing. I had learned better than to hope there was pity in the world.

The dealer’s house was strong as a prison, with courtyard walls fifteen feet high. On one side was a shed, where they did the gelding. They had purged and starved me first, which is thought to make it safer; I was led in cold and empty, to see the table with the knives, and the frame with splayed-out legs to which they bind you, with old black blood on it and dirty straps. Then at last I threw myself at the dealer’s feet and clasped them crying. But they made no more of it than farmhands of the bawling bull-calf. They did not speak to me, just strapped me down, talking across me of some gossip in the market, till they began and I knew nothing, only the pain and my own screams.

They say women forget the pain of childbirth. Well, they are in nature’s hand. No hand took mine. I was a body of pain in an earth and sky of darkness. It will take death to make me forget.

There was an old slave-woman who dressed my wounds. She was skillful and clean, for boys were merchandise, and, as she told me once, they thrashed her if they lost one. My cuts hardly festered; she used to tell me they’d made neat work of me, and later, she said giggling, I would be the gainer. I had no use for her words, and only knew she laughed when I was in pain.

When I was healed, I was sold at auction. Once more I stood stripped, this time before staring crowds. From the block I could see the bright glazes of the Palace, where my father had promised to present me to the King.

I was bought by a gem-stone dealer; though it was his wife who chose me, pointing a red-tipped finger from her curtained litter. The auctioneer had delayed and pleaded; the price had disappointed him. From pain and grief I had lost flesh, and no doubt most of my looks. They had stuffed me with food, but I had brought up most of it as if my body disdained to live; so they got me off their hands. The jeweler’s wife wanted a pretty page, to set her above the concubines, and I was pretty enough for that. She had a monkey too, with green fur.

I grew fond of the monkey; it was my work to feed it. When I came it would fly through the air to me, and clasp my neck with its little hard black hands. But one day she wearied of it, and had it sold.

I was still young, living from day to day. But when she sold the monkey, I looked ahead. I would never be free; I would be bought and sold like the monkey; and I would never be a man. In the night I lay and thought of it; and in the morning, it seemed that without manhood I had grown old. She said I looked peaked, and gave me a dose that griped my belly. But she was not cruel, and never beat me unless I broke something she valued.

While I lay at the dealer’s, the new King had been proclaimed. Ochos’ line being extinguished, he was royal only by side descent; but the people seemed to think well of him. Datis, my master, brought no news to the harem, thinking the only concern of women was to please men, and of eunuchs to oversee them. But the chief eunuch would bring us all the gleanings of the bazaar, taking delight in this importance; and why not? It was all he had.

Darius the new King, he said, had both beauty and valor. When Ochos had been at war with the Kadousians, and their giant champion had challenged the King’s warriors, only Darius had come forward. He stood six feet and a half himself, and had transfixed the man with a single javelin, living ever since in the renown. There had been consultations, and the Magi had scanned the skies; but no one in council had dared cross Bagoas’ choice, he was too much dreaded. However, it seemed that so far the new King had murdered no one; his manners were reported gracious and mild.

As I heard this, waving my mistress’s peacock fan, I recalled my father’s birthday feast, the last of his life; the guests threading up the mountain and coming in through the gatehouse, the grooms taking their horses; my father with me beside him, welcoming them at the door. One man had towered over the others, and looked so much a warrior that even to me he did not seem old. He was handsome, with all his teeth still perfect, and had tossed me up like a baby, making me laugh. Had he not been called Darius? But one king or another, I thought as I waved the fan, what is that to me?

Soon all this was stale news, and they were talking about the west. There were barbarians there whom I had heard my father speak of, red-haired savages who painted themselves blue; they lived north of the Greeks, a tribe called Macedonians. First they had come raiding; then they had had the impudence to declare war, and the coastal satraps were arming. But the news now was that not long after King Arses’ death, their own King had been killed, at some public spectacle where, in their barbarous way, he had walked about unguarded. His heir was only a young lad, so there was no more need to be concerned about them.

My life went by in the small duties of the harem, making beds, carrying trays, mixing sorbets of mountain snow and citron, painting my mistress’s finger-ends, and being petted by the girls; Datis had only one wife, but three young concubines, who were kind to me, knowing the master had no taste for boys. But if ever I waited on them, my mistress would clip my ear.

Soon I was let out on little errands, to buy henna and kohl and herbs for the clothes-chests, and such things beneath the chief eunuch’s dignity; and would see other eunuchs shopping too. Some were like him, soft and fat with breasts like women’s, and after seeing one, though I was growing quickly, I would eat less. Others were shriveled and shrill like careworn crones. But a few stood tall and straight, with some look of pride in themselves; I used to wonder what their secret was.

It was summer; the orange trees in the women’s court scented the air, mixed with perfumed sweat from the girls, as they sat dabbling their fingers at the rim of the fishpool. My mistress had bought me a little harp, to hold on the knee, and bade one of the girls teach me to tune it. I was singing, when the chief eunuch rushed in, wheezing with haste and quivering all over. He was bursting with news, but paused to mop his brow and complain about the heat, making them wait. One could see it was a great day.

Madam, he said, Bagoas the Vizier is dead!

The courtyard twittered like a roost of starlings. My mistress waved her plump hand for quiet. But how? Don’t you know anything more?

Indeed, madam. He mopped his brow again, till she invited him to sit. He looked round from his cushion like a market storyteller. "It is common talk at the Palace, having been witnessed by many, as you shall hear. You are aware, madam, I know where to ask; if it can be known, it comes to me. It appears that yesterday the King received Bagoas in audience. With men of such rank, of course, only the choicest wine is offered. It was brought in, poured already into cups of inlaid gold. The King took the royal one, Bagoas the other, and the Vizier waited for the King to drink. For some time he held his wine-cup, speaking of some slight matter and watching Bagoas’ face; then he made to drink; then he lowered the cup again, watching still. He then said thus: ‘Bagoas, you have been the faithful servant of three kings. Such a man should be marked with honor. Here is my own cup for you to pledge me in; I will drink from yours.’ The chamberlain brought it to Bagoas, and brought the other to the King.

"I was told, by one who did me the honor to confide in me, that the face of the Vizier changed to the color of pale river-mud. The King drank; and there was a stillness. ‘Bagoas,’ he said, ‘I have drunk; I am waiting for you to pledge me.’ At this, Bagoas laid hand on heart, fetched his breath short, and prayed the King to pardon him; he had been taken faint, and begged leave to withdraw. But the King said, ‘Sit, Vizier; the wine is your best medicine.’ He sat, for it seemed his knees failed beneath him; and the cup shook in his hand, so that the wine began to spill. Then the King leaned forward in his chair, raising his voice for all to hear. ‘Drink your wine, Bagoas. For I tell you this and I do not lie; whatever is in that cup, it will be better for you to drink it.’

At this he drank; and when he would have risen, the Royal Guard stood round him with pointed spears. The King waited till the poison had taken hold, before retiring and leaving them to watch him die. I am told he was an hour about it.

There was a great deal of exclaiming, like coins in the storyteller’s hat. The mistress asked who it was that warned the King. The chief eunuch looked sly, and dropped his voice. The Royal Cupbearer has been given a robe of honor. Madam, who knows? Some say the King himself cast his eye on the fate of Ochos; that when the cups were changed, the Vizier read his face, but could do nothing. Let the hand of discretion cover the wise mouth.

So, then, divine Mithra, Avenger of Honor, had kept his day. The traitor had died by treachery, just as he ought. But the time of gods is not like the time of men. My namesake had died, as my father promised me; but he had died too late for me, and for all the sons of my sons.

2

TWO YEARS I SERVED the harem, suffering nothing much worse than a tedium I wondered, sometimes, I did not die of. I grew taller, and twice had to have new clothes. Yet my growth had slowed. They had said at home I would be as tall as my father; but the gelding must have given some shock that changed me. I am a little better than small, and all my life have kept the shape of a boy.

Nonetheless, I used to hear in the bazaar praise of my beauty. Sometimes a man would speak to me, but I turned away; he would not speak, I thought, if he knew I was a slave. Such was still my simplicity. I was only glad to escape the women’s chatter, see the life of the bazaar, and take the air.

Presently my master also gave me errands, taking notes to the jewelers of his new stock, and so on. I used to dread being sent to the royal workshops, though Datis seemed to think he was giving me a treat. The workmen were all slaves, chiefly Greeks, who were prized for skill. Of course they were all branded in the face; but as punishment, or to stop their getting away, most of them had had a foot off, or sometimes both. Some needed both hands and feet, if they used a burin-wheel for carving gems; and these, lest they should slip off untraced, had had their noses taken. I would look anywhere but at them; till I saw the jeweler watching me, supposing me in search of something to steal.

I had been taught at home that after cowardice and the Lie, the worst disgrace for a gentleman was to trade. Selling was not to be thought of; one lost face even by buying, one should live off one’s own land. Even my mother’s mirror, which had a winged boy engraved on it and had come all the way from Ionia, had been in her dowry. No matter how often I fetched merchandise, I never ceased to feel the shame. It is a true saying, that men don’t know till too late when they have been well off.

It was a bad year for the jewelers. The King had gone to war, leaving the Upper City dead as a tomb. The young King of Macedon had crossed to Asia, and was taking all the Greek cities there from Persian rule. He was not much more than twenty; it had seemed just a matter for the coastal satraps. But he had beaten their forces and crossed the Granikos, and was now thought as bad to reckon with as his father.

It was said he had no wife; that he took no household with him; only his men, like a mere robber or bandit. But thus he got about very fast, even through mountain land unknown to him. From pride he wore glittering arms, to be singled out in battle. Many tales were told of him, which I leave out, since those that were true are known by all the world, while of the false we have enough. At all events, he had already done all his father had intended, and still did not seem content.

The King, therefore, had mustered a royal army, and gone himself to meet him. Since the King of Kings did not travel naked to war like a young western raider, he had taken the court and Household, with its stewards and chamberlains and eunuchs; also the Harem, with the Queen Mother, the Queen, the princesses, and the little prince, and their own attendants, their eunuchs and hairdressers and women of the wardrobe and all the rest. The Queen, who was said to be of surpassing beauty, had always brought the jewelers good trade.

The King’s attendant lords had also taken their women, their wives and often their concubines, lest the war should last some time. So, in Susa, only such people were buying jewelry, as are content with chippings stuck in clay.

The mistress had no new dress that spring, and was sharp with us all for days; the prettiest of the concubines had a new veil, which for a week made life unbearable. The chief eunuch had less shopping-money; the mistress was skimped with sweets, the slaves with food. My only comfort was to feel my slim waist, and look at the chief eunuch.

If no thicker, I was growing taller. Though I had again outgrown my clothes, I expected to go on wearing them. But to my surprise, I got a new suit from the master; tunic, trousers and sash, and an outer coat with wide sleeves. The sash even had gold thread in it. They were so pretty that I stooped over the pool to see myself, and was not displeased.

The same day, soon after noon, the master summoned me to his business room. I remember finding it strange that he did not look at me. He wrote a few words and sealed the paper, saying, Take this to Obares the master jeweler. Go straight there, don’t loiter in the bazaar. He looked at his fingernails, then back to me. He is my best customer; so take good care to be civil.

These words surprised me. Sir, I said, I have never been uncivil to a customer. Does anyone say I have?

Oh, tut, no, he said, fidgeting with a tray of loose turquoises. I am only telling you to be civil to Obares.

Even then, I walked to the house thinking no more than that he had some worry about the man’s goodwill. The captain who took me from my home, and what he did to me, was smothered up with other things in my mind; when I woke crying in the night, it was mostly from a dream of my father’s noseless face, shouting aloud. Without thought of harm I went to the shop of Obares, a stocky Babylonian with a black bush of beard. He glanced at the note, and led me straight through to the inner room, as if I were expecting it.

I hardly remember the rest, except his stink, which I can recall today, and that, after, he gave me a bit of silver for myself. I gave it to a leper in the marketplace, who took it on a palm without thumb or fingers, and wished me the blessing of long life.

I thought of the monkey with green fur, carried away by a man with a cruel face, who’d said he was going to train it. It came to me that perhaps I had been sent on approval to a buyer. I went to the gutter and vomited my heart out. No one took notice. Damp with cold sweat, I returned to my master’s house.

Whether or not Obares would have been a buyer, my master was not a seller. It suited him far better to be doing Obares favors. I was lent to him twice a week.

I doubt my master ever called himself what he was. He just obliged a good customer. Then a friend of Obares heard, and must be obliged for his sake. Not being in the trade, he paid in coin; and he passed the good word on. Before long, I was sent out most afternoons.

At twelve years old, it takes too perfect a despair to die alone. I thought of it often; I had dreamed of my father without his nose, and instead of the traitor’s name he shouted mine. But Susa has not walls high enough to leap from; there was nothing else with which I could make sure. As for running away, I had for example the leg-stumps of the royal jeweler’s slaves.

I went, therefore, to my clients as I was told. Some were better than Obares, some much worse. I can yet feel the cold sinking of my heart, as I walked to some house unknown before; and how, when one required of me something not fit to be described, I remembered my father, no longer a noseless mask, but standing on the night of his birthday feast while by torchlight our warriors did the sword-dance. To honor his spirit, I struck the man and called him what he deserved.

My master did not beat me with the leaded whip he used upon the Nubian porter, for fear of spoiling me; but the cane cut hard. While it still stung, I was sent back to beg pardon and make amends.

This life I led for rather more than a year, seeing no escape till I should be too old. My mistress did not know of it, and I conspired to deceive her; I had always some tale for her of my day’s business. She had more decency than her husband, and would have been outraged, but she had no power to save me. If she knew the truth, the house would be in an uproar, till for the sake of peace he would sell me for the best price I’d fetch. When I thought of the bidders, I kept the hand of discretion before my mouth.

Whenever I passed through the bazaar, I imagined people saying, There goes Datis’ whore. Yet I had to bring back some news, to satisfy my mistress. The rumors were running, ahead of truth, that the King had fought a great battle with Alexander, at Issos by the sea, and lost, escaping with his bare life on horseback, leaving his chariot and his arms. Well, he got away, I thought; there are some of us would think that luck enough.

As proper news came in by the Royal Road, we learned that the Harem had been taken, with the Queen Mother, the Queen, her daughters and her son. I pitied them; I had good cause to know their fate. The girls’ screams rang in my ears; I pictured the young boy flung upon the spears, as I would have been but for one man’s greed. However, never having seen these ladies, and being bound for the house of someone I knew too well, I kept some pity for myself.

Later it was put about, by someone who swore it came straight from Kilikia, that Alexander had set up the royal women in their own pavilion, untouched by man, with their household to serve them, and that even the boy was still alive. This tale was laughed at, for everyone knew that no one behaves like that in war, let alone western barbarians.

The King had fallen back on Babylon, and wintered there. But it grows hot in spring; without much state he returned to Susa, to rest from his labors, while his satraps mustered another army. I was kept at work, and could not see the royal cavalcade, which, like the boy I still partly was, I had set some store by. It seemed that Alexander had not marched inland where he had been expected, but had had the folly to sit down before Tyre, an island stronghold which would not fall in ten years. While he kept up this pastime, the King could take his ease.

Now that the court was back, even though without the Queen, I hoped the jewel trade would prosper; then perhaps I might be let off my trade, to stay and serve the harem. Once I had thought it tedious; it beckoned now like a palm grove in the desert.

You might suppose by now I would be reconciled. But ten years are ten years, though one has left them behind for three. Far off on the mountain, I could still discern the ruins of my home.

There were clients from whom, if I had flattered them, I could have had good money I need not have shown my master. I could sooner have made a meal off camel-dung; yet some were drawn by my sullenness, and would court me to win a smile. Others would hurt me in various ways, but I divined they would do so in any case, and servility would encourage them. The worst, who left me covered in weals, my master denied me to, not from pity but because he damaged the goods. With others I learned resources. I did not refuse a small piece of silver, but used it to buy kif. Taking it seldom, I could smoke myself silly beforehand. That is why to this day the mere smell of it makes me sick.

Some, in their way, were kind. With these, it seemed that honor demanded a return. I would try to please them, since I had nothing else to give; and they were glad to teach me how to do it better. Thus I learned the beginnings of art.

There was a carpet-seller who, when he had done, would treat me like a guest, seat me by him on the divan, give me wine and talk to me. The wine I was glad of, since he sometimes put me in pain; not through his fault, for he was gentle and liked to please. I kept it to myself, from pride, or what modesty was left me.

One day he had a carpet of ten years’ work hung on the wall, to take pleasure in, he said, before it went to the buyer; a friend of the King’s, content with only the finest. I expect, he said, he may have known your father.

I could feel my face drain of blood and my hands grow cold. All this while, I had supposed my birth my secret, my father’s name sheltered from my disgrace. Now I knew my master had had it from the dealer, and boasted of it. Why not? The Vizier, from whose vengeance I had been stolen, was disgraced and dead; it was no crime to have cheated him. I thought of our name in the mouths of all those who had had their hands on me.

A month’s custom dulled me a little to it, but not much. There were some I would gladly have killed for knowing what they knew. When the carpet-seller sent for me again, I was thankful it was no one worse.

I was brought into the fountain court, where he sometimes sat on cushions under a blue awning, till we went indoors. But, this time, he was not alone; another man sat with him. I stood stock-still in the open doorway, my thought, I suppose, clear on my face.

Come in, Bagoas, he said. Don’t look so startled, my dear boy. Today my friend and I ask nothing but the refreshment of beholding you, and the pleasure of hearing you sing. You have your harp, I am glad to see.

Yes, I answered. The master said you wished it. I had wondered if he had been charged extra.

Come, then. We are both fretted with the day’s business; you shall soothe our souls for us.

I sang to them, thinking all the while, They will be up to something later. The guest had not a merchant’s look; he was almost like my father’s friends, but smoother. Some patron of the host’s, I thought; presently I shall be served to him on a platter, dressed with green leaves.

I was mistaken. I was asked for another song; then they chatted with me of nothings; then I was given a little present, and dismissed. No such thing had ever happened to me before. As the courtyard door closed behind me, I heard their low voices, and knew they spoke of me. Well, I thought, it had been an easy stint of work. I should hear from the other man later.

So I did. Next day he bought me.

I saw him come to the house. Wine was sent for; the Nubian, who had served it, said some hard bargaining was going on. He did not know what about; he had only simple Persian; but already I wondered. When afterwards the master sent for me, I knew before he spoke.

Well, Bagoas. He was smiling from ear to ear. You are a very fortunate boy; you are going to very good service. And for a very good price, I thought. You will be sent for tomorrow morning.

He waved me off. I said, What kind of service, sir?

That is your new master’s business. Take care to show him respect. You have had good training here.

My mouth opened. But I said nothing after all. I just looked him in the face; his color changed, and his pig-eyes shifted. Then he told me to go; but it had done me good.

So, like the monkey, I was set for an unknown bourne. My mistress drenched me with tears; it was like being enfolded in wet cushions. Of course he had sold me without her leave. You have been such a sweet good boy, so gentle. I know you still grieve for your parents, even now; I have seen it in your face. I do pray you have a kind master; you are still a child as the world goes, so quietly you have lived here.

We cried again, and all the girls embraced me in turn. Their scented freshness was pleasant, compared with certain memories. I was thirteen years old, and felt I could have no more to learn when I was fifty.

I was duly fetched next day, by a very grand eunuch, some forty years old, who had been handsome and still watched his figure. He was so civil, I ventured to ask the new master’s name. He smiled discreetly. We must first see you made fit for his household. But do not be anxious, boy; all that will be attended to.

I felt he was keeping something back, though not from malice. As we walked beyond the bazaar to the quiet streets where the big houses were, I hoped the new master’s tastes were not too odd.

The house was like all such, shut off from the street by a high wall, with a great bronze-studded gate. The outer court had tall trees whose tops, even, had hardly showed from the street. It was all old and dignified. The eunuch took me to a little room in the servants’ wing, with only one bed. For three years I had fallen asleep to the chief eunuch’s whistling snores. On the bed were new clothes laid out. They were plainer than mine; only when they were on I saw their quality. The eunuch took my own clothes between finger and thumb, and sniffed. Gaudy and shoddy. We can make no use of them here. However, no doubt some child of want will be glad of them.

I supposed I should now be brought before my master; but it seemed I was not accounted fit to see his face before my training, which began that day.

It was a huge old house, very cool, with a set of rambling rooms upon a court, long out of use it seemed, some with just an antique chest or an old divan with burst cushions. Through these we came to another, with good furniture, set out I supposed rather for store than use. At one end was a table with a fine carved chair; there was a sideboard, with good vessels of enameled copper; yet at the other end stood a stately bed beneath an embroidered canopy. Strangely, this was made up, and had its clothes-stool and its night-table. All was polished and clean, yet had no look of habitation. Creepers festooned the fretted windows; the light came in as green as water in a fishpool.

However, it soon appeared there was method in all this. This was my training-ground.

The eunuch sat in the carved chair enacting the master, instructing me in serving this dish or that, or pouring wine, setting down the cup or putting it in the master’s hand. His manners were haughty enough for any lord’s, but he never struck or cursed me, and I felt no ill-will to him; I saw the awe he inspired in me was part of my training too. For I perceived that indeed I had changed my state, and was growing scared.

My noon meal was brought here; I did not eat with the servants. I had seen no one but the eunuch, since I entered this house. It began to seem uncanny; I dreaded being told I must sleep here too in the great bed; I was sure there would be ghosts at night. But after my supper I slept in my little cell. Even the privy I went to had no one ever about, but was overgrown and full of spiders, as if not used any more.

Next morning, the eunuch took me through all yesterday’s lessons. As far as a man of his dignity could show it, he seemed a little keyed up. I thought, Of course, he expects the master; and growing anxious, at once let fall a plate.

Suddenly the door swung open, and, as if it had revealed a flower garden in full bloom, a young man came in. He strode forward, gay, handsome, assured, richly dressed and adorned with gold, smelling of costly essences. It took me some moments to reflect that, though more than twenty, he had no beard. He had seemed no more like a eunuch than a shaven Greek.

Greeting, Gazelle-Eyes, he said, smiling and showing teeth like fresh-peeled almonds. Well, indeed, they said no more than the truth for once. He turned to my mentor. And how is he getting on?

Not badly, Oromedon, for one who has had no grounding. We shall make something of him in time. He spoke, not without respect, but not as one speaks to the master.

Let us see. He beckoned to an Egyptian slave behind him to put some burden down, and withdraw. I was taken through all my table-work. As I made to pour wine, he said, Your elbow is rather tight. Curve it like this. He flexed my arm in his hands. You see? That makes a much prettier line.

I continued to the sweets, and stood awaiting censure. Good. But now let us try with a proper service. From the slave’s parcel, he unwrapped a treasure that made me stretch my eyes; cups, ewers and dishes of pure chased silver, inlaid with gold flowers. Come, he said, pushing aside the copper. There is a certain touch in the handling of precious things, which is only learned by touching them. He gave me a secret smile from his long dark eyes. When I took the things up, he said, Ah! He has it. You see? He is not afraid of them, he feels how they should be cherished. I think we shall do well. He looked about. But where are the cushions? And the low wine-table? He must learn how to serve the inner room. The other glanced up at him. Oh, yes, he said, laughing softly, his gold earrings twinkling, we can be sure of that. Just send the things, and I will show him all that myself. I shan’t need to keep you.

When the cushions came, he sat, and showed me how to hold the tray to him kneeling. He was so friendly, even when correcting me, that I mastered this new work without nervousness. He got up, saying, Excellent. Quick, deft and quiet. And now to the rites of the bedchamber.

I said, I’m afraid, sir, I’ve learned none of that yet, either.

You need not keep calling me sir. That was just to keep up your sense of ceremony. No, this is my part of your instruction. There is a great deal of ritual at bedtime, but we need do no more than run over it; most will be done by people of higher rank. However, it is important never to be at a loss. We will first prepare the bed, which should have been done already. We opened and turned it back; it had sheets of thread-drawn Egyptian linen. No perfume? I don’t know who got this room ready. Like an inn for camel-drivers. However, let us suppose the perfume scattered.

He stood by the bed and removed his fluted hat. That would be done by someone of very high rank indeed. Now there’s a knack in taking off the sash; he will of course not turn around for you. Just slip your hands round and cross them; yes, that’s right. And now the robe. Begin unbuttoning at the top. Now lift it off from behind, and slip it down; he will just move his arms from his sides enough for that. I removed the robe, baring his slender olive-colored shoulders, on which his black curls fell down, just touched with henna. He sat down on the bed. For the slippers, go on both knees, sit back a little, and take each foot on your lap in turn, always beginning with the right. No, don’t get up yet. He has loosened the waist of his trousers; you now draw them off, still kneeling, with your eyes cast down all the time. He lifted his weight a little, so that I could do this. It left him in his linen underdrawers. He was extremely graceful, with a flawless skin; the Median, not the Persian beauty.

You have not folded them. The chamber-groom will take them away; but there must never be a moment when they lie about untidy. So, then, if this room were set out properly, you would put on the night-robe (my fault, however did I forget it?) under which he would slip off his drawers, in accordance with propriety. He covered himself modestly with the sheet, and tossed them onto the stool.

And now, if nothing has been said beforehand, watch carefully for the sign that you are to remain when the rest retire. It will be nothing much; just a glance—like this—or a small movement of the hand. Don’t stand about, but occupy yourself with something; I will show you, when all the right things are here. Then, when you are alone, he will motion you, like this, to undress. Go now to the foot of the bed, take off quickly and neatly, and lay them down there out of sight; he does not expect to see a pile of your clothes. That’s right, take off everything. You may now allow yourself to walk up with a smile, but don’t make it too familiar. That’s perfect, perfect; try to keep that touch of shyness. And now— He opened the bed, with a smile so gracious and commanding that I had got there before I knew it.

I started away, reproach and anger in my heart. I had liked and trusted him; he had tricked and mocked me. He was no better than the rest.

He reached out and caught my arm; his grasp was firm, but without anger or greed. Gently, Gazelle-Eyes. Hush now, and listen to me. I had not said a word; but I sat still and ceased to struggle. I have never, all this time, told you a word of a lie. I am just a teacher; all this is part of what I am here to do. If I like my work, so much the better for both of us. What you wish to forget, I know; soon you can do so forever. There is a pride in you, wounded but still unyielding; it is perhaps what shaped your prettiness into beauty. With such a nature, living as you have lived between your sordid master and his vulgar friends, you must have been holding back all the while. And very right. But those days are gone. There is a new existence before you. Now you must learn to give a little. I am here for that, to teach you the art of pleasure. He reached out his other hand, and gently pulled me down. Come. I promise you, you will like it much more with me.

I did not resist persuasion. He might indeed possess some magic, by whose power all would be well. So at first it still appeared, for he was as skilled as he was charming, like a creature from another world than that I had been frequenting; it seemed one could linger forever in the outer courts of delight. I took all that was offered, neglecting my old defenses; and the pain, when it swooped on me with all its claws, was worse than ever before. For the first time I could not keep silent.

I am sorry, I said as soon as I could. I hope I did not spoil it for you. I couldn’t help it.

But what is it? He bent over me as if it really concerned him. I cannot have hurt you, surely?

No, of course. I turned my eyes to the sheet to blot my tears. It always happens like that, if it does at all. As if they brought back the knives.

But you should have told me this. He still spoke as if he cared, which to me was wonderful.

I thought it must be the same with us all—with all people like me.

No, indeed. How long ago were you cut?

Three years, I said, and a little more.

I don’t understand it. Let me look again. But this is beautiful work; I never saw cleaner scars. It would surprise me, cutting a boy with your looks, if they took more than just enough to keep you beardless. Of course it can go wrong. The cuts can fester so deep that all the roots of feeling are eaten away. Or they can butcher you so that nothing is left for feeling, as they do with the Nubians, I suppose from fear of their strength. But with you, short of giving her fill to a woman—and few of us can do that, though one hears of it now and then—I can’t see why you shouldn’t enjoy it with the best. Do you tell me you have suffered this since you began?

What? I cried. Do you think I let myself be moved by those sons of pigs? Here was one to whom I could speak at last. There were one or two … But I used to think myself away from it, when I could.

I see. Now I begin to guess the trouble. He lay in thought, as grave as a physician, then said, Unless it is women. You don’t think of women, do you?

I remembered the three girls hugging me by the pool, and their round soft breasts; then my mother’s brains spilled on the orchard pebbles, and my sisters screaming. I answered, No.

Never think of them. He looked at me earnestly, his lightness gone. Don’t imagine, if your beauty keeps its promise, that they won’t be after you, sighing and whispering, and vowing to be content with anything you have. So they may believe; but they never will. No; in their discontent they will turn spiteful, and betray you. The surest way to end on a spike in the sun.

His face had turned somber. I saw there some dreadful recollection, and, to reassure him, told him again I never thought of them.

He caressed me consolingly, though the pain had left me. No, I don’t know why I considered women. It is clear enough what it is. You have fine senses; for pleasure certainly, for pain therefore as much. Though gelding is bad enough for anyone, there are degrees of feeling. It has haunted you ever since, as if it could happen again. That’s not so rare; you’d have got over it long ago, with me. But you have been going with men you despised. Outwardly you had to obey; within, your pride has conceded nothing. You have preferred pain to a pleasure by which you felt degraded. It comes of anger, and the soul’s resistance.

I didn’t resist you, I said.

I know. But it has bitten deep; it won’t be cured in a day. Later we’ll try again, it’s too soon now. With any luck in your life, you will outgrow it. And I can tell you one thing more; where you’re going now, I don’t think it will much trouble you. I have been told to say no more, which is taking discretion to absurdity; but no matter, to hear is to obey.

I wish, I said, I might belong to you.

I too, Gazelle-Eyes. But you are for my betters. So don’t fall in love with me; we shall be parting all too soon. Put your clothes on; the getting-up ceremonial will do tomorrow. The lesson has been long enough for today.

My training took some time longer. He came earlier, dispensed with the haughty eunuch, and taught me himself the service of the table, the fountain court, the inner chamber, the bath; he even brought a fine horse, and in the weed-grown courtyard showed me how to mount and ride with grace; all I’d learned at home was how to stick on my mountain pony. Then we went back to the room with its green glimmering windows and great bed.

He still hoped to exorcise my demon, giving much patience to it; but the pain always returned, its strength increased by the pleasure it had fed on. No more, he said. It will be too much for you, and not enough for me. I am here to teach, and am in danger of forgetting it. We must accept that this is your lot just now.